


Symphony in Yellow

by Flosscandies



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pole Dancing, F/F, Libby Ives the offical Moira cosplayer is a pole dancer so yeah, angela is a gay mess, shes also a broke college kid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 03:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14203641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flosscandies/pseuds/Flosscandies
Summary: Angela Ziegler hates clubs, she rather spend her time at home reading, studying or out working at the hospital.  Yet sometimes you have to cave for a friend, and go out and try something new.  She hardly was expecting to hopelessly develop a crush on the local pole dancer.





	Symphony in Yellow

Angela Ziegler loved her part-time job at the local hospital. There she served as an assistant nurse, helping patients with daily mundane tasks. She would assist patients to right themselves after surgery, feed them, take care of dirty sheets and check their vitals. It wasn't the exact job she was looking for when she began her medical career five years earlier at the age of eighteen, but it would do until she obtained her Ph.D.

Her grades were most definitely impressive. Satya, Angela's boss and lead manager of the hospital, had taken great interest in Angela due to her outstanding marks in every course she took. In fact, only a few weeks after working at the local hospital, Satya had approached Angela with a proposition. If she passed her courses with flying colors (a task none too difficult for the young prodigy), she would be granted the job of assistant surgeon and later on, head surgeon of the department.

It was cheap, as Angela considered it, to be promised such things, but it was what she wanted and she hardly could be a chooser in this situation. Especially when her classes took up most of her day. 

She had applied for all the early morning medical courses, knowing she would need the afternoon free for work or study. So every morning she would attend her classes, take the closest bus over to the hospital to begin her shift with only minutes to spare on a day with hardly any traffic, and later that night she would head home and study. Living off of the few hours of sleep she allowed herself once she had finished.

Angela's days repeated themselves exactly, leading her to have little time for friends and family outside of her campus and job.

That was completely fine with her, but a young freshman wouldn't have any of it.

"Lena would you stop fidgeting so I may properly take your blood pressure," Angela said, her voice tired and weary. Her blue eyes stared daggers at the young brunette before her, sitting in one of the uncomfortably plush seats. 

The girl, Lena Oxton her name was, was tapping her foot repeatedly, bouncing around in her chair in ways that Angela would've found impossible.

"Sorry, doc! Just excited for tonight," Lena said, sputtering out her words with hardly a pause. Her leg continued to bounce obnoxiously against the white tiled floors and Angela had to wonder if tying her up would ease her hyperactivity.

"Y'see, Emily and I and maybe a few others are going to this nice club down by Main Street, ya know, the one with that really big bouncer guy who looks like he could stop a train with his fists?"

Angela grunted in affirmation. She had passed by there a few times but had never gone in. The whole club scene, as she said many times, was not for her.

"Yeah so they're doin' a show tonight and Emily said I should invite you since you're the one patching me up most of the time, doc! So what do you say? Come with us?"

Angela knew if she looked up from Lena's arm the young girl would be pouting with her familiar puppy dog stare. She sighed, shaking her head and squeezing the bulb, watching the needle spring up to the higher digits as the pressure against the girl's arms increased. Lena whined, shaking her legs at the pressure. Her skin was delicate and Angela knew this always would leave bruises on her upper arm, the evidence obvious in their shared college fitness class.

"Lena, I've told you this many times. I'm not into the clubbing scene and I never will be."

Angela wrote down the numbers on the chart in her lap, allowing the pressure to slowly flow out of, what Lena called 'the hellish contraption'. 

"C'mon Angie. I only see you here in the hospital takin' care of my messed up heart and at the campus gym," Lena whined again as Angela unstrapped the blood pressure meter, this time not in mock pain, "it'd be fun seeing you out of those places! And if you don't like it we can leave."

"Lena how many times must I say this but no. Now, your check-up is done and please do remember to take your medication, we don't want a repeat of last month," Angela said as she stood, reaching her hand out so that Lena could take it. They're hands clasped and Lena stood, revealing how much shorter she was compared to the blonde.

"Please," Lena begged, "come just once? You and Emily would get along great! Not counting the fact that you deserve a break from all your hard work."

Angela once again shook her head, finding that seemed to be the only real action she was performing that day. She knew Lena would never drop the subject, after all, she always seemed to be planning something or another. 

The duo left the checkup room, walking into the plain white hallways in which many nurses and doctors walked about, moving from patient to patient. Angela leads Lena back over to the entrance to the hospital, something that was pointless as Lena had been there a countless number of times and knew the floor plan by heart.

Lena trailed behind Angela, her face pointed toward the ground and her feet scuffing against the tiles. Angela winced with each loud squeak, trying to avoid thinking about the mopping freshman behind her. It was a difficult thing to do as Lena made pathetic whining sounds, begging Angela to come with Emily and her to the club. Finally, Angela stopped in the center of the hallway, near the counter where others managed the patient files.

"Lena," Angela could basically hear the brunette perk up, "if I go just this once, will you no longer beg me to go out to the clubs with you?"

"Yeah sure, Angie! If you don't like it I won't bother you again," Angela could feel the 'but' incoming, "but, if you do like it, you have to go again with us some other time."

Angela sighed, stepping behind the counter to return Lena's patient file. She smiled and greeted a few co-workers before turning back to the bouncing girl at the front.

"Fine, I'll go," Lena cheered, "what time is it though and what do I wear?"

"Just meet Emily and me there at eight and wear whatever's comfortable," she gave a pause, "but not doctor scrubs!"

Angela frowned, opening her mouth to ask why in Gods name did Lena assume she would wear doctor scrubs to a club, yet she thought better of it. 

"Guess I'll see you then, Lena."

Lena grinned, her trademark bright and ecstatic smile, before spinning on her heels and leaving. She paused at the sliding door, turning around to wave at Angela before heading out into the chilly weather with a spring in her step.

Angela let out an exhausted breath, leaning against the counter. She stretched and raised an eyebrow at one of the other nurses who had been watching her exchange with Lena; a green-haired boy who obviously meant well but had no qualities of a nurse.

"Sounds like you got a busy night. You're heading to the bar called Phantom, right?" Angela's eyes flashed to his name tag; Genji Shimada. He had been only working at the hospital for a short time, being around Angela's age, possibly younger, but she had never seen him around the college campus.

"That's the only bar down on Main Street so yes."

"It's a nice place, not too loud and obnoxious. My brother was going to be hired but refused last second for whatever reason."

Angela stared at him. He looked awkward trying to talk to her, standing ridged with someone's medical charts in his hand.

"Your friend, the one that's in here often, was trying to get me to go a while back as well," he explained, realizing Angela had no clue as to why he was telling her this.

"Sounds like something Lena would do, sorry that she was trying to be a bother," Angela gave a breathy laugh.

"Oh no! She's not a bother, I have another job down on the East End of the city in a sports shop, she's a frequent customer but I've just never gotten her name."

He was stuttering now, rambling on and on about nothing in particular. Angela took her eyes off him, looking up at the old-fashioned clock nestled between folders. It was only two minutes until her shift ended and she would have to start preparing for the party.

"Its nearly the end of my shift, I really need to get going. See you later Genji," Angela said, righting herself. She gave a half-friendly wave to the boy, leaving him standing nervously as she left the entrance and headed toward the locker rooms.

She had to get dressed for the club later.

\----

Alright, Angela had to admit that the club wasn't half bad. In fact, it was a lot better than most clubs she had ever been to. The line outside the club wasn't all too long as it was a Thursday night, and the bouncer was friendly. As friendly as you could be standing over six foot and having half of your body weight be made up of muscles. He just checked their ID's at the door, giving Lena and Emily wristbands to show that they were not legal to drink yet.

It surprised Angela that the bouncer still allowed them in, but then again she had heard from Emily while standing in line, Phantom wasn't exactly a drinking club. As long as you were eighteen and older you were allowed in, you just couldn't buy any alcoholic drinks until the legal drinking age of twenty-one. 

From the outside, the club looked small with little patrons that night. The tinted windows obscuring anyone's view of the inside and making it difficult to see what was going on. Lena said it gave the bar an air of mystery, but Angela wasn't exactly sold on that idea.

The only indication of the clubs name was the purple sign attached to one of the blackened windows. It glowed brightly, the cursive and minimalistic feel of the sign giving Angela a better idea of what the next few hours would be like.

Once inside the club, Angela realized just how wrong she was about the size of it. Off to her right were steel-barred stairs leading up to a second floor with plenty of plush red seating. A few detailed wooden doors also lined the back section of the upper area, large 'Private Dance Room' signs nailed into the center of them with a small list of what the prices could be at the bottom. 

On the base floor that Angela and her friends occupied at the moment was a large wooden stage. It took up a portion of the center of the room, having three poles vertically attached to it and the tall ceiling above. Plush red booths dotted along the left wall closest to the stage, nearly the exact same as the ones above. 

Men and women alike sat and ideally talked, staring up at the stage as though waiting for something to happen.

Further in the back was a bar, longer and wider than any Angela had ever seen before. Different colored drinks lit up the bar area as bright LED lights were placed behind them, with what Angela could only call a protective layer to keep the drinks from becoming warm.

All-in-all, the club appeared highly maintained and likable, even to her.

Overhead, the music pounded. Angela hardly noticed it while taking in the sight of the club, realizing it was a song she had heard countless times when she had been dragged (also by Lena) to college frat parties. Some things never changed apparently.

Being so caught up in the sight and sound of things, Angela didn't notice Lena reaching for her hand. Her stomach flipped as she jumped away in shock as though some stranger had touched her. Lena gave a wiry laugh, grabbing onto Angela's hand properly this time so that she wouldn't be surprised and began to drag her over to a booth.

Emily had already sat down, eyeing the dance floor further back by the bar with mixed emotions. Angela, if she wanted to, would have offered to dance with the redhead; something she would only do if stone-faced drunk.

"What's with the stage?" Angela asked, her voice rising above the volume of the music being blasted around her. She sat next to Lena who prompted scooted her way around the circular booth over to her girlfriend.

"Okay, so you know how I was telling you about this really hot older woman I met the other day while on a jog?"

No Angela did not remember hearing that from Lena. She supposed she had been spaced out or studying when the bouncing girl before her was telling her the rundown. 

"Yeah so apparently she works here as a pole dancer, and Em and I wanted to come see her perform."

Angela almost let out a loud groan of dismay. They had forced her not only into going to a club but also the only _strip club_ within a hundred mile radius from campus.

"You two have been begging me to go out to a club for the longest time, and as soon as I agree, you take me to a strip club?" Angela voiced. Her eyes darted around the room as though suddenly everyone in the club, from the people dancing to the others sitting in booths, were predatory and wouldn't mind doing unspeakable things to her.

"Angela dear, calm down," Emily said, "this place is full of cameras and security. If anything happens it's all taped and we can talk to someone about it, okay?"

Angela let out a shaky breath she didn't know she had been holding, nodding her head along with Emily's calming words.

"I'll uh, go get something to drink," Angela said, standing and moving out of the booth. She could hear a loud cheer coming from the other side of the stage yet she didn't turn around to see what the commotion was.

"Get me a beer, please Angie!" Lena yelled over the music.

"You're too young!" Angela said, turning around to face Lena for a quick second to stick out her tongue playfully, heading over to the bar. 

Over by the bar was a large crowd made of the people dancing, sitting on the bar stools, and a few others that had the looks of security. Angela allowed herself to push through the crowd, murmuring out a simple 'sorry' and 'excuse me' as she moved in, trying not to be rude. The sea of people never once parted for her, the mingling of the crowd pushing and pulling her back to where she had started. Obtaining any kind of alcoholic drink would be difficult.

Finally, a spot opened up, a tall olive-skinned woman walking out of the crowd. Her black hair was tied back tightly in a ponytail, and if Angela had considered her small black dress revealing before then this woman could be considered naked. A black lace bra, panties, and fishnets were the only clothing adorning her person. Angela had to wrench her gaze away from the women in fear of appearing predatory and gross for looking at her. 

A large mass of people followed the woman away from the bar, giving Angela the chance to order her drink; a simple martini as she did not trust her friends to keep away from other sources of obtaining alcohol. She would most likely need to be sober for the night, something she found a bit disheartening but she was fine with it.

Grabbing her martini by the stem of the glass she spun around, beginning to make her way back to Lena and Emily. The woman she had seen before was on the stage, her back turned toward Angela revealing a large hyper-realistic spider tattoo spanning from her shoulder blades to her tailbone. Her hands were clasped around the pole, lifting herself higher and higher.

Angela audibly gulped, rushing back to the booth with her head down. Something about watching her, another woman, felt wrong and made her stomach churn with anxiety. It was interesting yes, the way the dancers could hold themselves in perfectly flat positions, their bodies toned by each routine, each exercise. Watching them, however, was a different story.

She glanced up again as she neared her friends, her eyes making contact with the woman's toned inner thighs. Her ears burned as her blush spread across her face and she couldn't help but inwardly scold herself for having a male's gaze.

"Hey Angie, what do you think?" Lena asked once the blonde took her seat, ignoring how red her face was. Off to her side, she could hear Emily laugh at the expression she made.

"It's, uh, interesting."

"Boo, come one isn't it cool! The lady performing right now, she's the one I told you about. Her stage name, it's Widow you see, but she introduced herself as Amélie to Em and me." Lena rambled on, glancing up at the woman performing only a few meters from them. 

Angela shifted her eyes over to the stage, but not directly looking at the dancer, Widow, keeping her in the corner of her eye. The twists and twirls she performed were magnificent but every time she climbed off the pole, sauntering her way over to the edge of the stage to coo at other club goers forced Angela to turn away with a light blush.

" _Mes chéries_ , you came," a seductive voice drawled out above the music. Angela didn't even have to even take a guess to know that it was the dancer, speaking to her, or more accurately Emily and Lena.

She looked back over to the stage where the dance sat, her long legs dangling off the edge. Her chin was rested in the palm of her hand, a soft flush from exhaustion dusting her cheeks. She stared at Angela's friends in almost a predatory manner, as though waiting for the right opportunity to strike.

"Hey Am," the nickname sounded way too familiar and also similar to Emily's, "nice show."

Emily gave a nod of approval, moving over, closer to Lena to speak to Amélie more freely.

She smirked, tilting her head over to Angela to look at her.

"You haven't seen anything yet," her voice was thick with a French accent, "Gabe, the boss, has a friend who does pole professionally. She participates in competitions all the time and has her own little workshop for beginners. She's coming out next for a demonstration of you can call it one."

"Can't be as good as you, luv."

Was Lena, flirting with her? In front of her own girlfriend?

When Angela went to look for any sign of discomfort from Emily, all she noticed was the redhead's attentive gaze. She looked as though moonstruck by the dancer, nodding her head along with whatever she was saying.

Puppy love as per usual.

"Mh, she's heading over here now. I know you two darlings came to see me, but we can always catch up some other time, non?" Widow got two enthusiastic agreements from Lena and Emily before propping herself up to head off stage.

Angela groaned at her friend's idiotic tendencies, downing her drink in one large gulp. She promised she would be the sober friend for the night, but with how her friends were behaving and the fact that they were sitting so fucking close to the pole dancing stage, she wasn't sure how she was going to not be drunk by the end of the night.

"I'm going to get another drink," Angela said, standing. She turned to face the stage so that she could move out of the booth with ease, accidentally locking eyes with the next performer.

She froze, standing rigid as a smirk curled around the performer's lip. One eye was a solid crystal blue while the other was unnatural, brown but with enough orange and red to make it appear demonic, as though she had a blood red eye. Angela would have winced if she wasn't so captivated, finding herself slowly sinking back down into her seat.

Off to her side, Angela heard Emily make a soft noise, one that basically screamed in Angela's ears, 'I see you staring at her'.

Her eyes were just so captivating, and if Angela were to look at the rest of her she knew the performer would be equality so.

"Red-haired club," Angela heard Lena chuckle, snapping her out of her transfixed daze. When she once again looked back, she noticed the short red hair of the performer, her sharp jawline, how tall and lanky she was but at the same time, toned and flexible. Angela felt that if she stared for too long she would forget how to breathe. 

The woman held herself flat in what Angela would later learn was called a superman pose. She twirled and adjusted herself so that she was only held onto the pole by a single leg.

"Hey Angie," she could barely hear them over the music and her captivation, "we're going to chat with Am in the back. Catch you in ten?"

She nodded slowly, unable to take her eyes off the woman before her. Others around the room were having a much simpler time as their interests were in the sexual aspect of pole dancing. Not the apparent art form Angela felt so graced by in the moment.

Watching this felt personal somehow and Angela didn't know how to explain it. It hadn't felt this way before when she had been watching Amélie perform: she was embarrassed then, feeling gross that she was watching something so sexual. 

This was different, so much different. She hardly could stop herself from staring at the women's toned body, the way her biceps faintly pushed out as she held herself in the air. Angela could see the freckles dotting her upper body and faintly across the woman's cheeks. Hell, Angela had gasped when she spread her legs, performing splits mid air as she slowly sunk down the pole.

The woman grinned, most likely noticing Angela's eyes on her. It was hard not to as she seemed to be the only one focused on the stage. Everyone else in the club was out on the dance floor by the bar, enjoying their night.

Not to say Angela wasn't enjoying her night. Having her eyes locked with a pole dancer as she performed, watching her every movement and the way she would bite her lip as though her thoughts were going elsewhere suddenly made her feel vulnerable.

This woman was a professional, yet the way she seemed to strip Angela down with her mismatched eyes was anything but. 

As though she were hypnotized she moved closer to the edge of her seat, feeling the sudden urge to walk up on stage and ask the performer what her name was and every personal question in the book. Angela managed to withhold herself, however, nails digging into the table in front of her, feeling the wood cave under them ever so slightly. 

She licked her drying lips, hand reaching out for her drink before remembering that she had forgone obtaining another. Rising and grabbing her glass she slowly approached the stage, knowing that she would have to be turning and heading to the bar, missing some of the dancers perform. 

The dancer smirked, blowing a stray lock of bright red hair out of her face. Angela had to wonder if that was her natural color or not and if it was soft to the touch. She stood staring helplessly as the woman dismounted, walking over to Angela with haughty pride.

She stepped off the tall stage with grace, and fuck she was so tall, it was hard to tell with her contorting herself around the pole earlier. She had to be nearly a good foot taller than Angela and suddenly the blonde felt highly nervous, taking a step back. Angela definitely wasn't ready for the woman to speak.

"Like what you see?"

Her voice was deep and husky, the slightest hint of exhaustion showing through. Angela had to take in a sharp breath, staring wide-eyed. 

Did she mean the performance? Or was she hinting at the possible other natured thoughts of Angela's gaze?

"I, uh," she sounded like a frightened school girl, "yes?"

She was so hopeless.

The woman chuckled, taking a few more steps closer to Angela. She flushed, noticing how her face was directly in front of the performer's small chest, the only thing separating the two is a thin sports bra. Angela hardly noticed how she held out her hand, something residing in it as she tried her best not to stare at the clothed breasts in front of her.

"If you ever want to act on those thoughts of yours," her voice was low and borderline suggestive, sending a chill up Angela's spine, "then you can contact me here."

Her large hand encased Angela's, dropping the small rectangular piece of paper that was in her hand earlier into Angela's. The warm comforting pressure of her hand was gone only moments afterward, Angela staring dumbly as the woman sauntered back up on stage to apparently grab a small bag she had brought with her. As she bent, her elastic shorts that hardly even covered half her thighs showed the faint outline of her boy short underwear.

Even if she would never see her again, Angela knew this woman was going to be the death of her.

\----

Moira O'Deorain.

That was the name of the professional pole dancer that had performed at Phantom for a short time the other night. Angela had left with Lena and Emily only an hour after Moira, just as the clock hit eleven. The whole time she sat, waiting for her friends to come back from one of the back rooms she never once tore her eyes off the card.

Sadly, it was not the handsome woman's number. However, it did have a number on it. Along with a series of times, days and a few locations listed down at the bottom. 

It was her business card and Angela couldn't help but feel disappointed in knowing that Moira was, perhaps, talking more about her performance then Angela's obvious attraction to her. At the same time, on her card, it showed that she offered eight am to noon workshops just a few blocks from Angela's dorm on the weekends. 

On Friday she had shakily announced to Lena and Emily that she was going to participate in one, earning her a, 'go get it girl'' from Lena. She blushed and promptly left the dining hall, telling her that the reason why she was going was that learning pole was interesting and appeared to be good exercise. 

Something of which she wasn't necessarily wrong about.

Angela spent Friday night with ease, not a single worry about her first ever workshop the next day. A pole dancing workshop at that. She even went to sleep with minimal issues, considering how she often times went without sleep to study.

Yet when she awoke all she could feel was pure anxiety. Her stomach churned and twisted, fearful of what was to come that day. Lena complained when she skipped breakfast, saying she was too nervous to eat. Even on the bus, she shook with worry, earning oddly placed stares from other passengers. The walk over didn’t fare any better. She tripped over the uneven cracks in the sidewalk, nearly walked into a pole as well. Cursing at herself for being so clumsy and too nervous for something so simple.

Finally she stood outside of the small studio, feeling a chilling spring breeze blow by. Her hands were clenched tightly to her bag and god she had never felt this nervous since she applied to the top medical science university in the world. Her stomach felt let it was the one doing pole at the moment and Angela had to wonder if this was a good idea.

She was doing it only to see the handsome performer once again after all. Hell, she probably had no core strength or muscle to actually even hold herself up on a pole. She was most likely just going to make an embarrassment out of herself and possibly others around her.

_This is such a dumb idea_ , she thought as she peered into one of the windows, cupping her hands around her face. Inside the studio she could see a few other people, men, and woman, ideally chatting around one of the back bars close to a mirror. If she wasn't holding the card, giving her the exact location and time, she would have thought she was jumping into a ballet class.

Pulling away from the window, just in case someone would look over and see her, she took a step back onto the sidewalk. She had the choice to do this, it is now (and live with the embarrassment of it) or never (and live with the sinking anxiety and regret of not going in).

Even if she was only going to participate due to the sensual instructor, she could always just try having the most fun as possible during the short four-hour long class. Plus she had the opportunity to walk out at any time if she highly disliked it.

She took in a deep breath through her mouth, exhaling seconds later through her nose. After a few more repeats of the calming exercise she had learned in medical training, she finally started to the door, grabbing onto its black handle and pulling it open.

It felt as though the chatter had suddenly stopped, all eyes directed at her as she made her way inside. Maybe she was wrong about this, maybe for a numerous amount of reasons, but she could help but feel judged as she set her small tote bag down up against the others.

Not only did she feel judged, but heavily overdressed as well. Angela wore her skin-tight leggings, pretending to not know that if she bent over they would reveal the outline of her thong. Her shirt was a modest white with what hopefully was paint stains (she couldn't remember if she had cut open a cadaver while wearing the shirt but it was the only one she has suitable for this kind of activity).

Everyone else seemed to be dressed in their undergarments for comfort, and although Angela knew very little of pole, she did assume that such outfits weren't exactly correct.

"Um, hi," she whispered, standing closer to the full wall mirror than the other people. A few other 'hellos' echoed out to her but no one attempted to strike a conversation. 

She stood rigid in place, unsure of what to do. She felt like an exchange student being in class for the first time. Glancing down she pulled out her phone from a small back pocket of her leggings. No notifications, no texts, no nothing. Angela just wanted to have something to do or to talk about before the workshop started to keep her mind off the fact she appeared to be the odd man out.

Thankfully, as though hearing her silent prayers, a door that Angela hadn't seen before in the studio opened. It most likely led to another, a completely different room similar to the studio or perhaps a small office. It wasn't as though Angela would have the chance to go in there, seeing how it was promptly shut and locked by none other than the redhead Angela hoped to see; Moira.

The older woman wore something similar to what Angela had seen her in at the club. A tank top revealing the upper part of her sports bra along with elastic shorts. One of Moira's impossibly long hands was by her mouth, clutching the dying end of a cigarette between her pointer and middle finger. The ember glowed brightly, and if Angela was thinking straight she'd wonder why someone like Moira was smoking, surely she knew it was bad for her health.

However, Angela was most definitely not thinking straight, her mind abuzz with thoughts of how sensual and attractive Moira appeared with a cigarette between her fingers. If Lena were there, she would have made a snide comment about Angela thinking 'gayly'. 

"Hello," Moira said, her voice deep and raspy as she walked forward. She took a drag of the cigarette before pressing the dying tip of it against one of the bars against the wall to snuff it out.

Her eyes scanned the room, everyone's chatter suddenly coming to a halt. Angela stood as still as possible, fumbling with her phone in her hands as Moira's eyes came to rest on her. The woman let her lips stretch into a smirk, turning back toward the others.

"Now, we are all here for the same reason, correct? To learn pole?"

Everyone nodded their heads, a few braver people letting out a tiny 'yes' in reply as they stared dumbly at Moira. Angela did have to admit that the woman did emit an aura of superiority, one that could even make the most narcissistic person back away in freight. The blonde didn't know if she should respect that and take a more submissive role like everyone else in the workshop appeared to be doing, or challenge her on it.

Angela would later learn that she had chosen the much more submissive path whenever around Moira. 

"Alright, let's begin."

Moira stood as though commanding everyone's attention, discussing the workshop plans of the day. It would start simply enough with a few stretches then some demonstrations. Afterward, she would assist anyone having difficulty. Angela couldn't help but feel as though her eyes were on her when she made that comment, as she most likely appeared more out of shape than others.

The blonde assumed the stretching portion of the workshop would be easy enough, she did have the ability to reach down and place her palms flat on the floor while standing after all. However, she quickly realized that wouldn’t be good enough, even if Moira was watching from behind, her facial expression difficult to read but most likely one of an impression. Everyone around her was close to the bars attached to the walls, their legs lifted high above their heads and for a split second, Angela was about to joke about being in a ballet class before being overcome with anxiety due to her lack of ability.

She didn’t know if she was relieved or frightful when Moira finally approached her. She hadn't even noticed her until she cleared her throat loudly, almost causing Angela to crack her back as she snapped up straight and tall, flushing in embarrassment.

“Can you not do that?”

She motioned toward the other people who, if Angela asked, would probably admit to being contortionists. Angela shook her head, feeling speechless in front of the taller woman. She wondered if she even remembered her from the other night, and that it was probably best not to ask. Her snide comment was most likely about pole dancing anyways, not Angela’s sudden attraction to her. 

“That will be difficult for the rest of the lesson if you cannot,” Moira said, pondering her options, “but that is why I’m here to help.”

Moira turned back to the other members of the workshop, barking out a few quick instructions before turning back to Angela who was most definitely feeling more like a nuisance than anything else. 

“I’m uncertain of how seriously you are going to be taking this workshop as you have only seen a small portion of my performances,” Angela cursed silently at herself, of course, Moira remembered, “but a bit more flexibility cannot hurt. After all it has _other uses_.”

Angela nearly had to do a double take. Did Moira make a sex joke? Or was she actually just talking about flexibility having other uses outside of pole dancing and sex?

After Moira's small comment it felt like the workshop went by in a blur. She would stand over Angela, commenting on her positioning and poses for each 'basic' stretch Moira tried to get her to do. 

Her hands would occasionally hold Angela's hips in support, guiding her through the steps of standing splits. More often than not, Angela would find Moira's large hands cupping the upper portion of her thigh, closer to her ass then leg. During such moments, Angela would turn into a flustered mess, stuttering out her replies to Moira's questions and tips.

She felt embarrassed. Not only by the constant touches but also the fact that when she looked up, she would see one of the other workshop goers staring at her with mild pity, as though it was pathetic to be unable to do such things.

Angela gave a stuttered gasp at the feeling of Moira's hand squeezing around her thigh. Much to close to areas that she hardly wanted anyone to touch. That was unless they were Moira.

She could feel Moira's piercing gaze on her back and other more vulnerable areas after her startled little noise. Hell, she could just picture the woman's infuriating smirk crossing her lips as she gazed down at her. 

For a second Angela wondered if Moira was going to bend down, move her hand so that it would brush against her clit and whisper degrading remarks to her, embarrassing her and exposing her to everyone else in the room. 

Thank God for his small mercies as Moira retracted her hand away from Angela's thigh to check her watch. 

"Its noon, we best finish up," Moira said, rubbing her temples as she gazed at her watch. 

Angela allowed herself to drop down to the floor with a loud sigh, no longer caring what everyone else would think of her. All her muscles ached and screamed for relief that she was much too happy to give. She twisted her back, feeling it crack and strain: she was never an athletic person and the sudden strain of going in to learn pole dancing was not doing too well for her body.

After a few moments rest, Angela finally stood to walk over to her bag and bottle of water. Mostly everyone in the workshop had left, other than herself and Moira. The latter stood not too far off from Angela's bag, leaning up against the wall and looking down at her phone in disinterest. 

"Um," Angela tried to begin, her mind racing as she grabbed her bag near Moira, "you're having lessons again on Sunday, tomorrow, right?"

Moira glanced up from her phone to look at her in confusion; she was most likely thinking that Angela wouldn't show up for another workshop.

"Yes. Tomorrow at the same time and place," her eyes dipped from Angela's face down her body for what seemed like an eternity but couldn't have been more than a few seconds, "you're planning on coming again?"

Angela nodded, making a noise of affirmation yet not sure of how to continue the conversation. She could still feel Moira's hands on her and the way she stared down at her as though Angela was her prey and she was the predator. 

"I'll definitely be coming back tomorrow... And if you're performing at Phantom, maybe I could come and watch," Angela said, her mouth running faster then her mind.

Moira hummed softly, "yes you did seem very interested in my performance the other night."

The grin spreading across her face had Angela turn away with a blush, unsure of what to do or say. 

Being around Moira always resulted in her acting dumber than normal, especially for a med student who was about to graduate at the top of her class. She hated it and loved it. She adored the way Moira made her stomach flutter and chest clench just by being around her. It had been too long since she had experienced such emotions.

"Uh, yes it was, well, breathtaking," Angela managed to stutter out, swinging her bag over her shoulder, "thank you for the lessons as well."

Moira grinned, pulling out a cigarette cartoon from what appeared to be nowhere (possibly a hidden pocket or something), taking one out and placing it between her lips.

"A pleasure."

Angela flushed, turning and heading out of the studio, mind racing with thoughts of tomorrow.

\----

Angela did, in fact, show up for the next workshop. And the next and the next. Although she learned early on she had no knack for pole dancing, or even the upper and lower body strength to do so, she just kept coming back.

Occasionally, the dates of the workshops were changed or Moira would have a random one in the middle of the week without further notice. Angela made sure to attend them all, even the ones that cut into her class and work time. Moira hated lateness, something of which Angela had learned the hard way, staying until her medical history course was over before racing to the workshop in hope of the possible chance to speak to Moira. 

She spoke to her alright, arriving at the workshop thirty minutes late. Moira had glared at her through the lowered glasses she wore that day, as though she were an angry school teacher getting ready to discipline her student. Shamefully, Angela had almost admitted out loud, that stern angry Moira was incredibly hot and had her in a flustered mess for the rest of the workshop.

Even though the workshops only took up two, or the rare four, days of Angela's week, her attention span in her courses had begun to slip. It wasn't enough to be noticeable at first, but over the several weeks with Moira's hands lingering a bit too long, or her breath tickling Angela's ear, hot and heady, did her perfect grades begin to drop. 

Lena was the first to bring it up. She had taken to walking with Angela to her pole dance workshop and even admitted to wanting to try (she was much more open than Angela) but her medical records refused her from doing any strenuous activity.

"Angie, what's up? Lately, you've been starin' off into space. Like I don't mean to pry, I really don't, but you're not acting like yourself lately," Lena was somehow keeping pace with Angela as she rushed to the studio, attempting to be on time and get Lena to stop questioning her.

"It's nothing, Lena," Angela paused before continuing. She knew Leba wouldn't give up in trying to get an answer out of her, "just that my quiz grades haven't been up to par."

"Your par or my par?"

Angela pursed her lips, trying to think of someone, "Jesse's."

Lena whistled in dismay.

"Damn that sucks Angie... Maybe get yourself a tutor? I'm not actually sure; you're like a child prodigy right? Getting marks like Jesse is," Lena stopped and frowned, trying to come up with something that didn't sound hurtful, "it's just not you."

The duo came to a halt on the outside of the studio, looking in through one of the large side windows. Parked at the curb was a sleek black motorcycle that someone appeared to be leaning on, staring down at their phone.

"I'm certain all your courses are super hard like I've seen your notes. 'Extrachromosomal DNA and Biolistics'? Goddamn just saying those words makes my head spin. But you're like the star student, I haven't seen you get lower than an eighty-nine in the year that I've known you."

Angela nodded solemnly, unsure of what to say as she kept her eyes trained on the inside of the studio where a few other regulars were warming up.

"Guess I'll see you later," Angela grunted in confirmation, "alright then."

Lena almost looked forlorn as she turned on her heel, stepping away and heading back to campus where they came from. Once Lena was out of earshot, Angela took a deep breath, sighing loudly.

She was just about to open the glass door leading into the studio when someone came up behind her, their shadow towering over her. Angela froze in place, feeling her heart race as the person bent down, arm outstretched and reaching for the door.

"Ladies first," Moira chuckled, opening the door for the blonde.

"Moira!" Angela said, turning around to face the taller woman. What she was expecting was to see her in her usual sports bra and longer than average shorts. What she got, however, was far from that.

Moira stood tall, bent over Angela just slightly, arm still holding open the door. A black leather jacket wrapped her frame with a white tee that Angela could see was cut open down the sides. She wore dark grey jeans that were scuffed lower down her legs. And if she looked closely, Angela would be able to see her double helix piercings.

All-in-all, she looked absolutely stunning.

"You scared me," Angela admitted, taking in a much-needed breath. Moira just grinned the insufferable grin that Angela wanted to smack off her face and other times wanted between her thighs.

"Then I apologize."

God, she sounded so proud of herself. Angela hated how attracted she was to Moira, including her haughty, nearly narcissistic personality. 

Angela shuddered, thanking Moira for holding the door open and stepping inside the studio. Moira quickly followed suit, stripping off her jacket and hanging it up on the out-of-place coat rack near the door. Already Angela could feel her face start to heat up just by hardly looking at the older woman's toned arms.

Moira clasped her hands, sounding more like a stern teacher as she began to speak, starting the workshop off with a more authoritarian note.

Like always the workshop went by too quickly. The four hours only feeling like one, as Moira stared at Angela from a distance. Her lips were parted and she seemed to be overlooking others mistakes to make small annoying quips directed to the blonde. Angela would counter back as per usual; she was never one to submit all too easily.

It would be odd for the workshop to not be filled with annoyed snide remarks made by both women. The other attendees at first being nervous and shaky around them when they 'fought'. Now such attendees regarded their quips as just another, normal part of the day and nothing to be frightened over.

As the hour hand of the analog clock in the studio hovered close to twelve, Moira left the person who she was helping, slowly approaching the blonde who had somehow found enough strength in her body to hold herself up on a pole. She let out a wry chuckle, as Angela allowed herself to slide off, turning to face Moira.

Everyone in the studio already was beginning to pack up their belongings, and it would only be a short matter of time before the studio cleared out entirely. Although Angela would never admit it, she felt vulnerable without being around a large group of people while near Moira. 

"Angela, not to keep you behind longer than necessary," Angela could feel her mouth go dry at the sound of her name combined with Moira's heavenly thick accent, "but I do wish to speak to you in private."

Moira made a gesture to the forgotten office room Angela had seen Moira walk out of at her first lesson. Already she was walking over, leaving Angela to gather her stuff which was surprisingly quick in itself. Her bag was already strung around her shoulder and water bottle resting at her feet. A few others who were still in the studio gave Angela a small apprehensive look before waving and heading out, probably not wanting to see the outcome of whatever was just about to occur.

Angela stepped inside the office with minimal noise, a small desk located in the center and Moira on the other side of it. With her quick once-over around the room, Angela was unable to spy any personal items belonging to Moira. Everything was left in pristine condition, however, giving whoever walked into the small, minimalistic office the feeling that it was much larger than it actually was. It seemed almost lonely to Angela but she wasn't going to pry.

"You wanted to speak with me?"

Moira grunted in approval, her hands clasped on the desk. She reached for a small stack of plain white sticky notes, pealing one off and plucking a pen from a jar on the desk.

"I did not wish to overhear your conversation with your friend earlier," the way she said 'friend' was full of bile and bitterness that Angela herself was shocked by, "but you seem to be foregoing your studies for this workshop."

Angela could feel her hopes sink, _that's what she wanted to talk to me about._

"You're a medical student correct?"

"Yes."

Moira made a small noise of contemplation. Angela lowered her head, watching Moira's hands scribble something down on the sticky note. Those long dexterous fingers, her short trimmed nails on her left hand that she wrote with and the long ones on her right. She couldn't help the sudden thought of those fingers touching her all over once again, to feel her up without the thin barrier of clothing she wore to the workshops. 

To bend her over the desk and fuck her hard and fast.

Angela bit her bottom lip, trying to snap herself out of those thoughts. She could feel the familiar heat pooling between her legs. If she shifted she would feel the cotton of her panties sticking to her slick cunt.

"I've had a Ph.D. in Genetics for awhile now, but pole has taken up my time so I cannot pursue a career in Genetics at the moment. But, if you ever need any assistance with your work I would be more than happy to tutor you."

Angela couldn't help but hope Moira would be more than happy to help her with other _things_.

"Here," Moira reached out as she stood, depositing the sticky note in Angela's hands, "it's the number for my cell if you do wish to take me up on my offer."

Angela looked down at the ten digit number in her hand, a small smile forming. She muttered out a timid 'thank you' as Moira lead her back over to the office door, a large palm resting on the curve of Angela's spine just above her waistband. 

The blonde left with little hurry. She had taken the day off from her job and had hardly anything to do. Other than her homework and studies that loomed over her, piling on top of one another.

The walk back to her dorm was fairly quick as she lived in between her college campus and the studio. Being a star pupil had its benefits; the most important one being that Angela could pick if she wanted a roommate or not. She had chosen the latter, once believing that having a roommate would get in the way of her studies.

However, when she locked the bland white door behind her, tossing her keys off to a nearby desk and dropping her bag, she was grateful for not having a roommate for an entirely different reason.

Angela slumped down on her couch, holding her phone in one hand and the sticky note in the other. Quickly she read off the number, adding it to her contacts.

_Moira_

Angela contemplated over if she should add a heart to the end of her name but quickly decided against it. It wasn't as though they were a couple. Moira had just given Angela her number in case she wanted help with her courses.

She licked her lower lip, her thumb hovering above the green call button. It would be so easy. So easy to call, to flirt, to say everything she had wanted to say ever since the night at Phantom. 

To whisper how she wanted to beg for her to bend her over the desk in her small office. To hear Moira's voice growling in her ear as her fingers slowly trailed down her body.

Angela whimpered, dropping the note to rest her hand against her stomach.

The thought of Moira having her way with her on her desk was becoming too much. Angela could imagine perfectly of what it might feel like to have Moira's fingers knuckle deep inside her. 

She allowed herself to slip her hand underneath her pants and panties, brushing over her trimmed pubic mound and to her warm and slick cunt. Her chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing, allowing a single finger to slip between her sodden folds.

Just picturing Moira's long, impossibly long, nails running and scratching down her back, had her wet and needy. She could almost hear the way the desk would creak under their weight, the way Moira's dirty little compliments would fill the silence.

She was so desperate. She was so close to calling Moira, to moan loudly into the receiver and beg for her to come over and fuck her senseless.

Fuck, she didn't realize she had added a second, no a third finger, pumping in and out. She didn't once consider going slowly, knowing Moira would be more than willing to fuck her until she was left a trembling crying mess. She loved it.

However, it was over too fast. Angela hitting her peak with a loud guttural moan that sounded almost like Moira's name. She shook, clenching around her own fingers as her squirt coated her hand and the cushion she sat on.

Angela went to bed early that night, keeping her phone far away from her as her body slowly went numb. There was no chance for her to be with Moira, she knew and believed that with a burning certainty. Every sexual thought of the older woman sending her over the edge of both pleasure and tear-filled pain, knowing that she would never be interested in her.

\-----

She called her.

It was in the afternoon on yet another day Angela had taken off. This time for her studies. 

Angela wasn't even sure as to why she was calling Moira. Her class work was piled up in the coffee table before her, all of the worksheets thoroughly completed and checked over. There was no need for Moira to tutor her, and it wasn't as if the older woman would want to do much else with a college student.

Moira picked up on the fourth dial tone.

" _Hello?_ "

Angela jostled herself out of her thoughts, trying to stutter out what she wanted to say,

"H-hi, it's me, Angela," her heart was racing as she heard Moira hum in acknowledgment.

" _It's a pleasure to hear from you. As I gave you my number for tutoring purposes, I assume you need my help with some class work?_ "

Angela shook her head as though Moira could see her through the receiver. 

"No, I was, uh, wondering something. Like I know you're most likely going to turn it down but I- oh I'm rambling dammit. I was wondering if you wanted to go out and get a drink?" Her stomach and heart were in her throat, one pounding wildly and the other causing her to taste bile. Moira was definitely going to turn her down. Especially since she had only given Angela her number in case she ever needed help with coursework.

She could hear something in the background before Moira started to speak.

_"I'm at a competition right now, but a drink does sound lovely. I'll send you the address if you want to come and watch, then I'll personally take you out for a drink."_

Angela couldn't help but flush in embarrassment. She hadn't thought Moira would take up her offer for a drink, or even offer for Angela herself to come down to one of her competitions.

"Yeah!" She sounded like an excited schoolgirl, "Just text me the address and I'll be there."

Moira chuckled softly before replying,

_"Sounds like a date then."_

The call ended too soon, Angela's mouth hanging open in shock. Did Moira just hint that if they did go out for a drink together it would be a date? She could hardly believe it, it was almost too good to be true.

Angela looked down at herself, dressed in pajama shorts and a white tank. She hardly could consider her chosen clothing acceptable for a date, but then again Moira was at a competition. A pole competition. She was probably wearing her usual sports bra and boxer shorts. If the competition allowed them to wear whatever they wished.

Her phone vibrated, a notification from Moira popping up at the top of her screen. It was the address of the competition, located in the next city over. Adjacent to another club Lena had tried to get her to visit. Angela would definitely need to pick out something better to wear to the pole competition. She knew dressing like she just woke up on the local cue bus would have her receiving odd and judgemental stares from other passengers.

Peeling herself off of her couch she made her way back into her small room that consisted of a tiny twin bed and an equally tiny closet. Angela threw her phone on top of her bed, opening her closet to reveal the lack of proper 'date' clothing she sadly owned.

She had the tight black dress she had worn to Phantom weeks ago hanging up in the front. Yet Moira had already seen her in it, and they were only going out for drinks. It wasn't such a formal event that would require her to wear a dress. Unless Moira liked her in that dress.

Angela had to push it aside, looking through the rest of her closet. Jeans, jeans, sweats, more jeans, mom jeans she had bought and never wore, and finally a pleated pale yellow skirt. 

_It will do,_ Angela thought to herself, pulling it out of the tangled mess of her closet. Now she only needed a proper top, which thankfully she didn't have to think about as much, pulling on a white shirt to compliment her yellow skirt.

A quick check in the mirror she decided she looked presentable enough. Grabbing her phone, wallet, and keys she finally left.

Her stomach fluttered as she walked down the complex stairs, through the streets and sat waiting at the nearest bus stop. Her leg shook uncontrollably. And with every breath, she found it harder and harder to breathe. Angela was never one to be nervous, but as she boarded the bus, her mind was already racing with the many ways the whole scenario could go wrong.

Angela's head rested against the window of the bus, trying to calm her nerves. It most likely wasn't even a date anyways, what she said could have easily been a figure of speech. There was no way such a handsome woman would ever want to go on a date of all things with a college student. Angela didn't even know Moira's age, but she had to be quite a few years older if she had a Ph.D. 

She clutched her phone staring down at it, noticing the small blinking green light to signify she had gotten another text.

This one was also from Moira, telling Angela that she would be performing in thirty. She was towards the end of the long list of people so they wouldn't have to stay long to hear the winners and could leave to attend a local bar Moira once performed in.

Angela smiled softly, quickly texting her back and hitting send.

_I'm sure you'll do well! Good luck ^^_

It only took a few seconds to receive a reply,

_Thank you, having your support means a lot._

Angela wasn't sure how to respond. She bit her lower lip, trying hard to keep her face from turning beet red. 

_I'll be there shortly_ , she typed out as the bus came to a halt. Making sure she had everything, she stepped off, walking out and onto the sidewalk. It was warm for once outside, and the sun was already beginning to set. Streaks of red and orange were starting to appear on the horizon and Angela couldn't help but think about how romantic it seemed.

The walk to the building where the competition was being held was fairly short, just a few blocks over from where the bus had dropped Angela off. The building, in all honesty, looked like a warehouse. Angela would've thought it to be one too if it weren't for the cars and bikes lining the streets near it. 

Already she could see people mingling about at the entrance, some walking in and out all in different states of dress. At least she was feeling too overdressed or underdressed now as a woman walked out in what looked like a prom dress, standing to the side to light up a smoke. Another person came out to talk to a few others; the only clothing he wore were boxers and Angela had to wonder how he wasn't self-conscience. 

After pushing through the people mingling at the door, which felt oddly enough like her first time at Phantom, she entered the building. Inside was a massive stage, two poles horizontal from one another attached to the ground and steel enforced bearings on the ceiling. A crowd of people stood before the stage, staring up in awe at whoever was performing. Even all the way at the entrance Angela could tell that it wasn't Moira.

She unlocked her phone and started to write out her text,

_I'm here_

Moira must have already had her own messages open as Angela received her reply within seconds,

_Wonderful. I'm in the back. There's a door leading to the backstage on the side. Just tell the guy on duty you know me._

Damn, she was a fast typer.

Angela glanced up, looking around the building. Finally to the left of the stage was a door with a large yellow sign saying, 'authorized personnel only'. It looked like the kind of sign you would see to keep people out of an electrical room or something. But Angela wasn't going to judge, it was a warehouse look-alike after all.

The crowd of people easily parted for her, most of them appeared to have more respect than any club goers Angela had encountered before. She whispered quick apologizes as she shuffled through, finally reaching the backstage door just as the next performance was starting. 

A man with blonde hair stood by the door, staring up at the stage with a sort of mock disinterest. He hardly even blinked as Angela approached him.

"Uh hi," Angela tried to start, the man turning his head over to her, "um I was wondering if I could go in. My friend," was she even her friend? "My friend Moira is performing shortly and I wanted to speak to her."

He seemed to sigh, stepping aside and opening the door for Angela. She thanked him and he smiled back at her as she walked in.

Backstage was well, backstage. It was larger than Angla had pictured, much larger. There were a few mock dressing rooms set up for the performers and benches for anyone who wished to sit. Towards the right were a few poles were Angela could spy a few people practicing routines. 

In the center of them was Moira. 

Her red hair was slicked back with a copious amount of hair gel. She wore a top that lacked a sleeve on her left arm and one down to her wrist on her right. It was skin tight and fairly low cut, revealing her lower rib cage and torso. Her pants were as short as ever to allow minimal friction. She looked absolutely stunning and Angela would say that as many times as needed.

Moira dismounted from the pole, casually walking over to the nearest bench and sitting down. She lifted her leg up and quickly wrapped ace bandages around her foot and knee. She stretched and Angela could feel her mouth go dry at the sight of her long toned legs and arms.

Licking her dry lips and suddenly feeling self-conscience about her appearance, she slowly made her way over to Moira. She was now chatting with another girl with a partially shaved head, the other side dyed with streaks of bright obnoxious purple.

"Hey, Moira."

She turned around, a small smile slowly spreading across her features as she spotted Angela.

"Ah Angel, I didn't actually think you would come," she patted the seat next to her which Angela awkwardly took up. The girl beside Moira smirked, eyeing her up and down.

"This is Olivia; she's a freelancer and quite talented if I do say so myself."

Angela gave a little meek wave at the girl who, as though deciding Angela wasn't worth her time, stood.

"See ya O'Deorain, don't wanna stick around for long," she paused, "oh, good luck I guess," with that and a wink she disappeared into the throngs of people. Angela stared at her with a mix of confusion and interest, finally looking over to Moira as if she had the answers.

A light flush dusted Moira's cheeks, however, and she frowned down at her hands in her lap. If Angela strained her ears to hear what Moira was muttering under her breath she would've heard a string of curses directed at Olivia.

"She's uh," she motioned with her shoulder to where Olivia disappeared to, "interesting?"

"Oh definitely. She's one to keep to herself and well," she paused to purse her lips together, "she doesn't do well with other people."

"I could tell... So about that drink...?"

Moira's odd heterochromic set of eyes seemed to light up.

"Yes, the drink I promised you. There's a nice bar a few miles down the street called Oasis: I used to work there. After I perform I'll drive you there, hopefully you're not too afraid of motorbikes," her dumb cat-like grin spread across her face, one that Angela had wanted to smack a few times, but now wanted to kiss.

She was about to argue back that _no she was not afraid of motorbikes. She was just maybe, slightly, afraid of crashing if the person (Moira) was a reckless driver._. Yet over the loudspeakers, Moira's name was called and she stood.

"You can watch back here," she said, pointing to a series of flat screens on the walls focused on the stage, "or out in the pits. It's up to you."

Angela had decided on staying in the backstage area, eyes trained on one of the many flat screens. She saw Moira step up to the stage, could hear her deep and rich Irish accent, the music playing, it was amazing. Her dance was beautiful, her time spent on the poles had the audience cheering and Angela holding her breath in amazement. She would never have thought she would ever be watching such a thing or being so mesmerized by it.

Every motion Moira went through was full of emotion and power. Even up on the screen, Angela could see Moira mouthing breathlessly the words to the song she performed too. It was, in all lack of better words that had disappeared from Angela's vocabulary, amazing.

It felt as though it ended too soon. The music stopped, Moira dismounted and took a bow before walking off stage. When Angela saw her in the crowd of people backstage once again she had to restrain herself from running up to her and hugging her, telling her that what she just did was jaw-droppingly wonderful. Instead, she did half.

"Moira, that was incredible!" Angela cried out as she approached the older woman. She swore she saw Moira had flushed at the statement, but then again, she was most likely exhausted from her performance. The heat and fatigue possibly causing the red on her face and ears.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, angel," her smile was sincere as she looked down at the blonde, "let me get dressed properly before I take you out for that drink."

Angela followed dumbstruck after Moira. Had the older woman just called her angel? Had she done is plenty of times before and Angela was just noticing now? 

She hated that she was such a useless gay mess, almost following Moira into the changing room. The latter chuckled, teasing Angela that she could come in if she wanted, but the blonde quickly shook her head no, stepping back from Moira.

The wait for Moira wasn't all too long, she exited the changing room within minutes appearing as though she didn't just participate in a pole competition moments earlier. 

Her outfit was oddly formal. A black long-sleeved shirt, black pants, and a belt. A purple tie was wrapped around her neck, untied and lose. Her fingers fumbled with the tie, sighing and pulling it off, stuffing it back into her satchel. 

Angela stared, infatuated beyond all hope. Moira was utterly handsome, Angela had to restrain herself from wanting to reach up, run her fingers through her short red hair, pulling her down for a kiss. She was having to restrain herself a lot around Moira, making her tense and nervous.

"You look... Nice."

Moira smiled, offering her arm out to Angela.

"Should my lovely date and I start to head out?"

Angela stammered, wrapping her hands tightly around Moira's toned arm. She could feel the muscles beneath her; an oddly comforting feeling.

"Date?" Angela asked. Her voice was too small for her and she felt as though she wanted to shrink away.

"But of course. You wanted to get a drink as a date, correct? Unless..." She paused, frowning down at the ground as she led Angela outside, "you don't wish for this to be."

"N-no. I mean yes! I'd like this to be a date but I- I didn't expect for you to want it to be one too!" She was stammering, her hands clutched tight on Moira's arm. She could hear Moira's laugh, one that was thick and deep like honey and she couldn't help but hope she would get to hear it more.

"Well, _I_ was the one to say 'it's a date', so of course I was expecting it to be a date," Moira said, stopping in front of a black motorbike Angela had seen once before. Moira stepped over it, kicking the kickstand up and pushing her key into the ignition. 

Angela jumped, startled as Moira reeved her bikes engine, grinning that wicked cat-like grin of hers. She patted the extra bit of seat left behind her.

"Come on, angel. You once said you weren't scared."

The blonde stepped over, feeling oddly intimate with her legs spread behind Moira. Not knowing where to place her hands, fidgeting awkwardly, she balled her hands into a fist, placing them down on her lap. Moira, as though sensing her discomfort, laughed. 

Once again she revved the engine, pulling away from the side of the curb. Angela squeaked, wobbling on the bike.

"Angel now isn't the time for you to be afraid to touch me. Now hold on to me so you do not fall."

She reached behind her back, pulling one of Angela's arms to wrap around her waist. The blonde shuddered, feeling the bike purr beneath her as she finally wrapped her arms tightly around Moira's waist. She could feel the tight set of muscle beneath Moira's shirt, never once wanting to let go.

Moira kicked the bike into gear, cruising through the streets. Angela sighed deeply, feeling the wind blow through her hair. She pressed her cheek against Moira's back, closing her eyes to enjoy the sensation of everything around her. The smell of Moira's cologne, the wind, the loud purr of the bike. It was as though she was in a dream. A dream she never wanted to wake up from.

Sadly she would have to. The bike coming to a halt only blocks away from the building that housed the pole competition. 

"You can let go now, Angel. We're here."

\----

Angela had thought Phantom was nice, really nice for a club. However, Phantom couldn't even compare to how luxurious the club Oasis was.

Bright blue fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling, no other lights present in the club, allowing everything to have a light blue tint to it. It was much larger than Phantom, the stage with performing pole dancers was double the size of the one at Phantom. The dancers were also more risque, wearing almost nothing and approaching patrons, allowing them to push wads of cash into their boots or g-string (something Angela knew was illegal, but the hefty amount of security made her think twice to question it).

Further away from the stage was a dance floor; people with glow sticks and other glow-in-the-dark items moving to the beat to the music.

Angela didn't take Moira for someone to be interested in such kinds of bars, but as Moira grabbed onto her hand and led her to the back did she understand as to why Moira once worked there in the first place.

Large, spacious private rooms that required an ID and a bouncers permission to enter. The rooms were completely soundproof, blocking out all the noise from the other section of the club. 

Each room contained a comfortable lounge area, a miniature stage was there for people who had the cash to pay for a private performance and a large minimalistic computer screen sitting atop one of the lounge tables.

The computer allowed access to many different things the club provided; such as a private server, performer, all the drinks in the bar, including ones that were only saved for the elusive back room guests. Angela had gapped in shock at seeing the price of the specialty whiskey, nearly twelve hundred dollars for a single shot. 

"Isn't this place, a bit too expensive. For like a first date I mean," Angela said, standing in awestruck confusion. Moira just shrugged in response, sitting down on one of the small loveseat cushions in the lounge, browsing through what kind of music to play.

"As I said, I've worked here before. Surely you've heard of employee discounts correct? I was also a co-founder here, but you didn't hear that from me," Moira finished speaking with a wink, a slow jazzy tune drifting from the overhead speakers.

"Goddamn Moira."

She laughed, patting a red seat next to her.

"Come here, order something, I'm paying."

Angela was too nervous to ask for anything higher priced than a small twenty dollar martini. Moira shook her head at her decision, saying fruity drinks weren't real alcohol before ordering herself a glass of whiskey. Within moments the server was knocking on the door, letting it slide open so that he could deposit their drinks on the table in front of them. He muttered a quick 'excuse me' and left. It felt as though everything was kept hushed in the backrooms and Angela wasn't sure how to feel about it.

"How can you even drink that?" Moira questioned, raising her glass to her own lips so that she could take a sip of the dark whiskey.

"It's good... not everyone wants to conform to stereotypes," Angela said, sticking out her tongue in a teasing manner before taking her own drink from her glass.

"Irish woman and whiskey mix well," her voice was like a low purr, "I hardly think someone who's Swiss, is it? To enjoy a martini. I was thinking more like vodka, tequila, maybe even some wine."

"Well, you're right about the wine. The others, I've never had them and I don't plan on burning my throat with alcohol anytime soon."

Another laugh, the sound of Moira's nails rapping against the monitor and the door once again opening. A different server came in, holding a bottle of tequila in one hand and shot glasses in the other. She set the glasses down in front of the two women, pouring a small amount of tequila into them before heading back out, leaving the almost full bottle behind.

"Moira... I'm not a heavy drinker and I don't think I'll enjoy tequila..." Angela said, her face was down staring at her lap. She twisted the stem of the glass holding her martini around, keeping her eyes off of Moira as she downed her shot.

"That's fine dear, but this is the good stuff. Do at least try it? I'll drink one of your own fruity little drinks if you try this stuff." 

Moira poured herself another shot and Angela couldn't help but admit Moira did look cute begging. Reluctantly she picked up the shot glass after setting aside her martini, inspecting the clear liquid inside. With a shrug, figuring it was now or never she downed the drink.

Much to her surprise it hardly burned, instead, it felt smooth running down her throat and she could almost taste everything that went into making the drink. It was good.

Before Moira could ask her opinion of it, Angela found herself reaching over to grab the bottle, pouring herself yet another shot and another.

"Well look at you, a woman who can hold her liquor after my own heart," Moira said.

"I never said I could hold my liquor. In fact, I only agreed to drink this because you looked cute begging me to." Angela said, her voice sounding slurred even to her own ears. She was not going to get drunk on her first date with Moira. Especially at a high-cost club.

Nope, she absolutely was not going to get drunk. She had constantly told herself that as Moira offered her a sip of her fine malt whiskey she had ordered God's know when. She was absolutely, positively certain that she was not going to be-

She was drunk. 

Moira and her talked as they drank, and if Angela tried she still wouldn't be able to pinpoint when the exact conversation popped up. Maybe in between Angela's questions about Moira's life as a pole dancer, did she ask if Moira had ever performed a lap dance for someone. She was honestly curious; Moira took great pride in her performances and she was apparently one of the co-founders of Oasis.

The other woman had flushed at the question, saying that no, she had never performed a lap dance on anyone, but she absolutely knew how. Angela had only giggled in response, letting the silence and jazzy music sink over them as she took another sip from Moira's glass of whiskey.

As though she was suddenly feeling brave (alcohol was liquid courage after all), Angela found herself scooting closer to Moira. Licking her lips she leaned forward, lips brushing Moira's flushed ear.

"Could you teach me?"

With that she stood, swaying slightly from her own drunkenness and to the beat of the music. She moved her hips slowly side-to-side, turning her head back to see if Moira was watching. Upon seeing that she was she grinned, turning all the way around, running her hands down her body, following the tune of the constantly switching music.

She could see Moira bite her bottom lip, resting her chin on her palm as she watched Angela. 

"Like this?" Angela slurred, hooking her fingers beneath her skirt as though she was going to pull it down.

"Mmmh, yes. But the dancer should be closer to the client," Moira said, reaching out with her free hand. She curled her long finger, slowly motioning for Angela to come closer. With a giggle, she swayed over to Moira, the latter reaching out to hold her hips steady.

"Splendid," Moira purred, helping to pull Angela closer. The blonde swayed to the beat, straddling Moira's lap. They stared drunkenly at one another, cheesy grins not leaving their faces as Angela ground her hips against Moira's thighs. She groaned low and deep, her clit rubbing against her panties and Moira's pants.

"Moira..." Angela murmured, wrapping her arms around Moira's neck. She was drunk, unable to think properly as she spoke.

"I think I like you," she leaned closer, her lips brushing up against Moira's. She could feel her hot breath, smell the alcohol on her tongue, and she was incredibly thankful that Moira was the one to make the first move. The hand around one of her hips trailed up into her hair, pushing her closer until their lips melded together.

Angela moaned softly, eyes fluttering closed. Already her mouth was open, more than willing to allow Moira's tongue access. Once her tongue slipped inside her lips Angela couldn't help herself anymore. Sucking on her tongue, grinding roughly against Moira's thighs, moaning like a little whore.

"So beautiful," Moira rasped out as they pulled apart, her left hand was splayed atop of Angela's thigh, slowly pushing its way up and under the pale yellow skirt. Her hand was warm compared to Angela's cold body, shivering in suspense. She had wanted this ever since she sank her fingers into her cunt nights ago and moaned out Moira's name as she came.

"Do you want this Angela? Do you want me to fuck your little cute cunt?" Moira asked, her voice was deep and raspy, just a tiny bit slurred. She pulled back on Angela's hair, her neck coming into full view. The redhead grinned, placing sloppy kisses full of teeth and tongue on Angela's neck.

"Moira," she gasped as Moira bit down on her neck, "please. Fuck me."

Moira's hands moved in a flurry of motion, pulling Angela closer, hiking up her shirt to reveal her white cotton panties. She pressed one long finger against the exact spot of where Angela's clit was, moving in soft circular strokes. Angela could help but choke out a shaky breath, wanting more but unsure of how to say what she wanted.

Thankfully Moira was ahead of Angela's own thoughts. Her hand dipped beneath Angela's panties, brushing over the trimmed blonde fluff and finding its way down to her wet heat. Angela could feel Moira shudder upon realizing how wet she was. How wet she made Angela.

She stroked up and down Angela's slit, spreading her wetness over her cunt. Occasionally she would push up against Angela's clit, grinding against it with the palm of her hand. Angela was a trembling mess, moaning, and rutting into Moira's hand unashamedly. 

Suddenly the ministrations stopped, a pathetic whine tumbling from Angela's lips. 

Before she could look up to see what Moira was doing, two digits plunged into her wet folds. Angela moaned loudly, sparks coming to life behind her eyes. Moira's fingers were so long, so dexterous, and they felt so damn good. They twisted inside her so that Moira's palm could grind against Angela's clit, a sharp gasp her reward.

"So tight," she slurred, "so wet. Made for me."

Her fingers were pumping in and out of Angela quickly, the blonde trembling, unsure how her legs hadn't given out just yet. Moira had her free hand pressed flat against the curve of Angela's back, holding her up as she had her way with her. 

"M-Moira," Angela moaned, trying so hard to keep time with the other woman. It was difficult, not just because of the erratic pace, but because it had been so long, much too long since she had been touched by someone like this.

"Yes, baby? What do you want?" Moira's tongue found the juncture between Angela's neck and shoulder, lapping at the soft sweat-slicked skin and sucking slowly.

Angela felt like crying, her core on fire and tense. The revenant way Moira was attending to her was nearly too much.

"More," Angela said, deep and drug out as Moira's fingers curled inside her, rubbing up against her sweet spot. She could feel her slick drooling out of her cunt, ruining Moira's pants. However, she hardly appeared bothered, adding a third finger yet again inside Angela. She groaned against the blonde's ear as Angela clenched down tightly, panting loudly as she took her pleasure with the help of Moira.

With each pump of her fingers, palming her clit, Angela was finding harder and harder to be quiet. Everything was too hot, her hair sticking to her sweat-slicked skin as she rode Moira's fingers. The redhead grunted, soft whispers from a language Angela didn't know brushing past her ear.

It was all too much, and when Moira's lips met hers yet again she came. Her release trickled down her thighs, Moira moaning against her lips as she continued to pump her fingers in-and-out. Tears pricked the side of Angela's eyes, shaking from all the pleasurable sensations trailing through her body.

She couldn't help but whine pathetically as Moira pulled away, her lips first then followed by her fingers. She didn't leave Angela's cunt just yet, however, smearing her slick over her swollen clit, wearing a predatory grin.

"So much, little one. Why don't I take you home to get you cleaned up," there was a double meaning in there somewhere, but Angela could hardly care as she was roughly pulled to her feet by Moira. 

They kissed again, still laced with burning passion and the liquor they had consumed. It was going to be a long night, one that Angela couldn't be more excited for.

\----

Angela awoke with a pounding headache, one that caused the backs of her eyes to tingle with pain as well. When she attempted to open her eyes, when not squeezing her brow together to relieve the pain, everything was blurry and uncomfortable. She groaned audibly, shifting over to her other side in her bed, feeling the sheets move atop her.

She closed her eyes again, trying to fight the blaring headache with her frown, yet the sunlight was pouring down through the blinds directly over her.

Her breath hitched, once again opening her eyes. The window in her bedroom wasn't this close to her bed, nor was her bed so big and spacious. She wasn't one to sleep in the buff, but yet here she was, completely nude under the sheets, as well as being in someone else's house.

She attempted to think back to the other night, fighting against the pounding in her head to make out small details. A flush adorned her cheeks as she remembered what had occurred at the club. How she sat in Moira's lap, allowed her to touch her, to fuck her, to use her. She whimpered at the blurry memories, squeezing her thighs tight together. 

She could remember the familiar pressure building between her legs, a hand gripped tight in her hair. The way she felt Moira’s fingers, a strapon, and other toys inside her. Moira’s voice whispering in her ear, moaning softly as she spread her wetness. Angela rocked her hips, her hand slowly snaking down her body. Brushing over the fuzz on her stomach and cunt, allowing her fingers to sink into herself with a gasp.

“Didn’t get enough last night?”

Angela made a loud and embarrassing noise, her heart pounding. She withdrew her fingers with some struggle, wanting to ease her growing wetness and arousal, but right now she had more important matters to attend to. Such as the redhead standing at the entrance to the bedroom, holding a bottle of water in one hand.

“I’m sorry,” Angela murmured, shifting up in the bed. The sheets slowly fell down her body and she cursed herself for forgetting that she was completely naked. Moira however didn’t seem to mind, giving her breasts an appraising glance before turning her head away.

“No I should be the one to apologize. Here,” she reached out and handed Angela the bottle of water, “you’re probably hungover and could use something to drink.”

Admitting that yes she was hungover, very hungover, and very thirsty (Moira chuckled at that) she unscrewed the cap of the water bottle to drink. Moira stood awkwardly in front of her, tense and, if Angela squinted and thought hard about it, shaking. The older woman glanced around, as though lost and not in her own room, finally striding over to a small reclining chair on the other side of the room to sit in.

“Look,” Moira started, twisting her hands together, “I’m really sorry about last night.”

Angela raised an eyebrow in question, setting the bottle down between her legs.

“You’re a college student, I’m what? Thirty? I shouldn’t have taken you out to Oasis last night, I shouldn’t have gotten you drunk, we shouldn’t have had sex,” she was flushed redder than a tomato as she finished, not wanting to meet Angela’s eyes.

“Oh,” Angela’s voice sounded meak and juvenile, “what if… What if I wanted it?”

She looked up at Moira, her eyes already watery. It hurt being told such a thing, especially since Moira was the one to hint that it was a date. Maybe it was just her hangover making these words come from Moira’s mouth, maybe instead she was confessing to Angela. She knew that someone’s hangovers or drunkenness couldn't put words in other people's mouths, but she could still hope.

“No,” Moira shook her head. Her hair wasn’t gelled back so that it swayed back-and-forth over her face.

“I understand we were both drunk, but that is no excuse. I shouldn’t have done that no matter how much you wanted it.”

Her head was absolutely throbbing now, unsure how to process what Moira was saying. It made no sense on how she was saying she shouldn't have done that even though Angela very much wanted it to happen, as did Moira. Maybe she was just talking about the drunk aspect of it and Angela was close to standing up and stradling Moira’s lap, telling her she wanted her. More than just a fuck buddy, but someone to love as well.

No matter how wobbly or in pain she was, Angela stood, steadying herself against the bed. Moira kept her eyes trained on Angela’s face, trying her damndest not to look at the rest of her. Trying to keep herself steady was difficult as she made her way over to Moira, letting out a sigh of relief when she dropped to her knees in front of the older woman. 

Moira tensed, quickly crossing her legs over one another as though fearful Angela might attempt to get her off.

“What are you doing?” The question was sharp, trying hard to be full of bitterness but yet some worry and affection showed through.

Angela reached up, tugging at the wrist of one of Moira’s hands, her eyes wide and pleading. Somehow, without words, she understood. Unfurling her hands from one another she let Angela hold one, tentatively leaning forward. Her lips brushed against the soft skin of Moira’s left hand, placing feather-light kisses on her palm, the back of her hand, the juncture’s between her fingers.

“Moira please,” her voice was nothing more than a whisper, “Please listen to me. I like you, so much it’s hard to put into words. Please understand that, please.”

She hated begging, but Moira was more dense than Angela originally thought.

“Even sober I want you, not just as someone to fuck, but something more.”

Hear Moira’s breath hitch was intoxicating, more then the drinks they had the other night. She withdrew her hand away from Angela’s lips, running it over to the side of her head to stroke her cheek gently with her thumb. The two of them stared at one another, eyes locked, this time instead of passion it was utter adoration.

“If you’re so certain then, Angel. I understand,” she tugged softly, signaling for Angela to stand. She leaned forward, moving her hands onto each armrest of the chair, allowing her and Moira’s lips brushing against one another in a chastise kiss.

Moira was the first to pull away, grinning dumbly up at Angela who was wearing a matching smile. Angela watched as she licked her lips, Moira’s hand sliding down to rest at the curve of her hip.

“You must be exhausted, I already took one but if you want you can take a shower here.”

Angela nodded, helping Moira to her feet. She didn’t need help to stand, but Angela just wanted an excuse to be able to touch, to hold the other woman’s hand. Moira smiled, possibly knowing that Angela just wanted to hold onto her, to make sure what was happening wasn’t just a dream.

She lead her out into the hallway, Angela stepping gingerly over the cold wooden floors. The hallway was plain, white walls, wood floors, the occasional painting of rolling hills and farm towns. She wanted to stop and ask if the paintings were of Ireland, but didn’t bother as Moira came to a halt by a door.

“As fun as leading you around my home naked is,” Angela blushed profusely, “here’s the bathroom. Shampoo and other things are in there, I’ll try and find something proper for you to wear.”

With a teasing grin she disappeared down the hall, leaving Angela to her own devices. Opening the door she found the bath was quite large, especially the shower. Marble tiles ran along the floor and up the walls. The sink was porcelain and Angela was almost scared that the only reason she fell for Moira was because she was handsome and rich, not just for her snarky personality she came to love. Yet again, she didn’t know of her apparent worth until the other night. 

She stepped inside the shower, sighing loudly as she turned it on and the cold water hit her. As much as she preferred her overly hot showers, between her legs she still ached with her arousal from the morning. She knew she and Moira must have fucked constantly last night, but she had no memory of it. Yet rubbing one out in Moira’s shower seemed highly inappropriate. 

Turning the knob from C to H all away, her hand already down by her clit, her pointer finger rubbing figure eight patterns over it. She breathed out through her nostrils, grunting as she rocked against her hand. She was still so tired from last night, but she wanted this, needed it even.

Her ring finger sunk down, down, and down in between her wet folds. Pumping it in and out she couldn't help but groan in pleasure, curling it inside herself to rub against her sweet spot. It was so good, leaning her forehead against the cold tiled walls, unabashedly moaning as she fucked herself.

“Moira…” she groaned, rocking her hips to a rhythm she could only slightly remember. Slipping another finger inside herself she moaned painfully loudly, clenching down tight against her fingers.

Angela was crying out Moira’s name now, feeling tears in her eyes, rubbing against her clit and fucking herself. She was possibly racking up Moira’s water bill, but could hardly care as she imagined her strong hands holding onto her hips, guiding her onto the tip of a strapon so that she could slowly fuck her as though they were lovers. It was easy to imagine how Moira would drag out her orgasm, force her onto her hands and knees to eat her out.

“Moira!” Angela cried, gasping as the two fingers inside her twisted inside and fucked her cunt roughly.

There was a loud knock against the door, Moira’s voice on the other side, asking if Angela was okay. She flushed, unable to stop her movements, panting heavily. Moira’s name tumbled from her lips once again as she entered the bathroom, standing rigidly as she spotted Angela’s figure in the shower. 

Angela turned to face her, mouth open and begging. She could hardly see Moira through at the steam in the bathroom, and she knew Moira could hardly see her, but just the thought of putting on a show for Moira had her doubling her efforts. Squeezing her eyes shut, focusing solely on the pleasure she could bring herself, she moaned out Moira’s name once again.

“Please, please,” her voice was hoarse, chest heaving against the wall, “please Moira. Fuck me, fuck me as though you love me.”

Strong hands gripped her waist, pulling her ass backward in which she complied. She would have thought it was only just her imagination, if she didn’t feel her ass brush up against wet skin. She gasped loudly, eyes snapping open. Moira was no longer standing outside the shower, a pile of clothing in her place. When she looked down she could see her large hands encasing her hips, nails scratching at her fine upper layer of skin.

“You want me to fuck you as though I love you?” Her voice was in Angela’s ear and she could feel her small breasts pressed against her back. Angela nodded dumbly, breathing deeply as she felt Moira pull her own fingers out of her cunt, smirking as she pressed Angela’s fingers against her mouth.

“Suck,” she commanded, pressing Angela’s fingers past her willing lips. She could taste herself, bitter yet sweet, lighting a new fire in her core.

“Good girl, now face me.” 

Angela whimpered, turning around. Even though she was average height, she was short compared to Moira, being eye level with her breasts. Moira’s hair was flat, dripping water down her face as she took most of the water from Angela due to her shear height.

Moira gave a cheesy grin, dropping down to her knees. Angela’s eyes widened, still sucking on her own fingers, now more due to suspense than anything else. The taller woman had to bend uncomfortably to press her face up against Angela’s cunt, her tongue gently teasing the hood of her clit. 

Now her hands wrapped around the upper part of Angela’s thighs, fingers idelly kneading her ass without much of a second thought. Her tongue dipped down between Angela’s folds, the smooth and wet muscle lapping away at her sex. Angela ground her hips against Moira’s face, whimpering and moaning. She was already so close before, and now Moira was the one attending to her needs, eating her out with such passion.

Moira pulled away to breathe, warm puffs of air brushing against her dripping cunt. 

“You taste delicious my dear; I don't think I’ll ever get enough.” Moira said, going back to fuck Angela with her tongue. The blonde was beet red from the heat of the water and how attentively Moira was attending to her. Holding he close, occasionally pulling away to place soft kisses against the inside of Angela’s thighs. She didn’t know if this was truly how Moira would fuck someone if she loved them but she wasn’t going to ask, enjoying the moment as much as possible.

“Moira,” Angela gasped out as the older woman’s tongue curled inside her cunt, “I’m so close.”

She could feel Moira’s disgustingly prideful smirk against her and if she had the strength she would have pulled her head back by her short strands of hair. Instead she placed her hands on Moira’s head, tangling her fingers through her hair slowly and softly, lovingly scratching at her scalp.

“I know darling, I know you are.” Moira purred softly, placing a quick love bite on the juncture between Angela’s thighs and pelvis. Once her mouth found her clit once again it was over. Angela moaned loudly, trying hard not to scream and cry as she came with a rush of fluids. Moira growled, hungrily lapping against Angela’s sex as though attempting to swallow as much as her squirt as possible. Her thighs clenched around Moira, shaking roughly, yet the redhead didn’t appear to mind. She continued to slowly pleasure Angela through her orgasm, helping her to slowly come down from the high.

Angela’s mind felt blank and mudded, unsure of what to say, or even how to speak as Moira once again stood to her full height, wiping the back of her hand against her lips. She reached around Angela, turning off the shower, ceasing the flow of water. Finally she bent down, capturing Angela’s lips with her own with another gentle kiss, whispering sweet promises to the blonde.

“Was that to your pleasure?” Moira asked, helping Angela out of the shower and wrapping a warm fuzzy yellow towel around her, giving her another peck on the lips. Angela couldn’t help but feel her chest swell with happiness, holding the towel close.

“Yes, very much Moira.”

She leaned against her, feeling Moira’s arm wrap around her waist, this time in a comforting manner. She could’ve easily closed her eyes and fallen asleep just like that, but Moira was already moving, wrapping a towel around her waist and tossing her clothing into a hamper near the door. Angela followed after Moira back into the bedroom, her limbs feeling heavy and head muddled with exhaustion. She would have killed to go back to sleep.

Moira, as though reading Angela’s mind, opened one of her drawers, pulling out a shirt that was much too big for Angela, but it didn’t stop her from tossing it over to the blonde with a fond smile. Angela dropped her towel, pulling the shirt over her head and hardly caring that her hair was now even messier then before. The shirt fell down her body, finally stopping at the middle of her thighs. 

“You’re so tall, I’m like a baby next to you.” 

Moira laughed, tugging on her boxer briefs and patting the bed. Angela was more than happy to fall down on it, feeling the softness embrace her. She could hear Moira shuffle to her side, the bed creaking at the added weight, causing her to wonder how loud it was and they were the other night, and if Moira had neighbors. 

Strong arms enveloped her, pulling her closer. Moira shifted to make herself more comfortable, taking great care not to elbow Angela in the process. Angela curled up on herself, placing her hands down to clutch Moira’s own. It felt intimate, the pose that they were in, Moira resting her head in the nape of Angela’s neck.

“Moira.”

“Mmmh?”

“I think I love you.”

There was a long pause, Angela’s chest tight and full of worry. Maybe Moira didn’t hear her, maybe she was already asleep. Her breathing was shallow enough for her to be resting. Angela was going to ask once again when Moira spoke,

“I think I do too.”

That was all she needed.

 

\----

Angela absolutely wasn’t a club person. She hated the flashing lights, the loud music, the smell of beer coating even what looked to be the cleanest of furniture. Yet here she was, in one of the only clubs she would ever think of visiting, a glass of wine in her hand, sitting in one of the only front row booths to have a full view of the stage.

Before her was a pole dancer, a tall, sharp featured ginger. She was focused heavily on her performance, never once looking at the crowd watching her every move. On occasion her eyes would connect with Angela’s, a cheeky grin spreading across her features. 

Angela couldn't help but smile in return, happy to see her girlfriend enjoying herself and her career.

She still couldn't get over that. Moira O’Deorain, a world-class pole dancer, was her girlfriend thanks to Lena’s constant badgering and more importantly, that drunken night at Oasis. She couldn’t imagine it any different.

Off to the side her phone buzzed loudly, vibrating against the table for less than a second. Placing her wine glass down she grabbed her phone, finding a text from the one and only Lena Oxton greeting her.

_hey angie! Am, Em (lolol) an’ I are heading out now! Dont forget our dinner plans,,, and pls give me some support idk how to ask them both the big Q_

Angela grinned fondly down at her screen, ignoring the loud clapping around her. Lena had been texting her all day, a nervous wreck since months ago she decided she wanted to marry Amélie and Emily. Moira and Angela both had helped Lena pick out the rings and decided to help support her by arranging a dinner date for the five of them.

_Yes, we’ll be there on time._

She felt the familiar pressure of Moira’s hand coming to rest on her shoulder, looking up to stare lovingly at her girlfriend before adding,

_Moira’s done with her set, we’ll be there in at least twenty._

“Lena?” Moira asked, reaching for Angela’s wine and downing it. Angela huffed, smacking her arm playfully before answering that yes, it was Lena texting her.

She stood, trailing after Moira who had already began to move toward the makeup room for any and all of the performers. The crowds parted easily enough, much easier now she knew how to navigate the clubbing scene with the mentorship of Moira and Amélie. In fact, that wasn't the only thing Moira mentored her on; helping her with her biomed and genetics work, complementing her work ethic and brains, occasionally pausing for quick kisses that were too easy to turn passionate. 

The dressing room was fairly quiet, the only other person being there was none other then the owner, Gabriel. He was, well, doing something, staring down at his phone, leg crossed over the other and grumbling a bit too loudly. Moira smirked, eyeing him before pulling her change of clothing out of her bag.

“How’s Jack?” Moira asked, pulling a black wool sweater over herself that Angela had gotten her for the winter holidays. Gabriel glared up at her, barking out something in Spanish that had Moira sincerely laughing. Before it would have been so easy for Angela to fall jealous, angry that someone other then her could pull such genuine emotions out of the older woman. Now she didn’t care just as much, happy to see Moira being expressive and joyful.

She pulled on her long dress pants, they were a bit off white which complimented Angela’s peach dress. Moira had teased her about her clothing choices earlier in the day, telling her that even though it was close to Spring, it was still cold out and she would be freezing. Of course she was right, but as always she was prepared, bringing her black jacket with her for when Angela finally admitted that yes, in fact, she was cold. 

“You ready?” Angela asked as Moira pulled out the said black jacket, helping Angela into it like a true gentleman. Moira nodded, giving a quick flick of her wrist as a wave to Gabriel, who grunted in response. Opening the door they were hit with the cool fading Winter air, Angela shivering slightly.

“A year ago all three of them met. Now they want to get married,” Moira said, watching her own frosty breath flow out of her mouth.

“It’s never too soon, you know.”

Moira nodded, looking over at Angela softly.

“Never to early, huh? Are you a expecting a ring on your finger soon, dear? Soft sounds of children’s footsteps running through the halls and rooms?”

Angela couldn’t help but laugh, holding out her left hand to gaze at the back of it, sighing wistfully. She returned her hand to Moira’s, feeling her thumb rub softly over her hand in almost a silent promise.

"Maybe one day, Moira. Maybe one day."

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever long fic!!!! Im so happy so I'm pulling an ILiveForSubtext and pls give me comments and validation,,,,


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